


archives

by winchysteria



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Future Fic, M/M, POV Second Person, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 04:18:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7085341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winchysteria/pseuds/winchysteria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You brace yourself for seeing them in the same room.</p>
<p>And despite everything, it's really, really sweet. Awkward, definitely; embarrassing, for sure, but something about it makes your heart hurt. Even with the choppy editing and the distracting bursts of movement, you can see the bumbling happiness of a Beginning with a capital B, the kind that feels permanent from the first few words.</p>
<p>aka: self-indulgent fluff imagining the bright future spinning out in front of my favorite british camera nerds</p>
            </blockquote>





	archives

**Author's Note:**

> this :) was not :) supposed :) to become :) 3000 words :)  
> it's 3 in the morning and i am Weak, very sorry about 2nd person POV  
> [and here i am on tumblr!](http://winchysteria.tumblr.com/)

It didn't  _start_ weird. Really, it's kind of Darcy's fault. The video at her wedding had been an absolute tearjerker, from the precious baby giggles to the shaky proposal footage, but it was the very beginning that stuck with you. "I'm pregnant with Baby Glitter," Louise had said to an unbelievably old camera, before it cut to photos of your babysitter as a newborn. Nobody could blame you for looking those ancient YouTube pages up, sending Darcy the most embarrassing clips you could find whenever she needled you.

There's endless ammunition, vlogs of outings and Q&As and one particularly incredible one of Darcy doing Louise's makeup. But after not too long, _they_ start showing up in the sidebar.

And _that's_ trippy. _AmazingPhil_ and  _danisnotonfire_ are all over a good chunk of the Louise videos you're watching, but not as they are now. This is  _old._ 2014, 2015, shot on cameras that were high-quality for the time, with that embarrassingly outdated hair. These are the straightener-days videos. It's kind of unreal, and at first you avoid clicking on the videos they uploaded themselves. That just feels inappropriately intimate, like finding your history teacher on Facebook and scrolling to the beginning of their profile pictures. But the longer you see videos called things like "Obama Llama," adorned with exaggerated clickbait thumbnails, the sharper your curiosity gets.

You knew, intellectually, that all of this was on the internet somewhere. You've just not watched all of it. It's hundreds of hours of video, after all, and decades' worth of social media and news. You've seen all the recent stuff: horror movie trailers posted to  _AmazingPhil_ , the "You can't be bothered: Romeo and Juliet" video that's been getting so many views on  _danisnotonfire._ You even see PJ's stuff-- quirky, just-for-kicks short films where they make occasional cameo appearances; Cannes festival vlogs with bouncy background music. Some of it, you don't need to watch, because you remember it firsthand. But the baby-faced thumbnail photos chip away at your resolve, so you finally do it.

_AmazingPhil_ is older, so you start there. Not the red-carpet clips from last month, no; if you're going to do this, you're going to commit, so you sort by Date added (oldest), and settle in.

_Embarrassingly old_ , you think as the first video begins to play. At some point, he thought so too, because the caption says "unprivated as part of the 2020 charity fundraiser, help me." It's actually, really in black and white. There's eerie familiarity to that first video, nearly every line pinging old memories of snickery inside jokes and  _shut up_ s. You remember a drive, a "what are you going to get me? A monkey in a cage?" and an only half-annoyed punch to the arm that sent him wobbling into the other lane and squawking about car safety. It's short, over before you know it, and continues seamlessly into an equally low-quality video that's at least in color.

These are weird, to say the least, but they're funny and sincere. There's something recognizable in their style, the odd cuts and distorted pitch, that makes you feel warm and a little sad at the same time. His northern accent is much, much stronger than you can ever remember it being. Four in the morning comes far sooner than it should, and you finally fall asleep with the words "What does 2009 hold for Phil?" echoing in your head.

The next morning, there's work to do and real life to attend to and you tell yourself that it was just a weird little indulgence. Every once in a while, you get the urge to flip over to YouTube, but you ignore it and distract yourself and it's not until you're lying alone in bed that you really can't resist flicking that browser window back up. Before long, you see the first thumbnail of them both. You catch up quickly with the other channel, a  _danisnotonfire_ that looks incredibly young and awkward, and then brace yourself for seeing them in the same room.

And despite everything, it's really, really sweet. Awkward, definitely; embarrassing, for sure, but something about it makes your heart hurt. Even with the choppy editing and the distracting bursts of movement, you can see the bumbling happiness of a Beginning with a capital B, the kind that feels permanent from the first few words. "This is the most fun I've ever had," says the tiny figure on the screen, before being tackled to the floor. A few years ago, that would have made you shudder, but now it just makes your cheeks ache with the urge to smile.

The innuendos are weird, though. There's not really a way around that.

Once you abandon the pretense of privacy, you consume the footage as fast as you can. There's something in the old videos that makes you feel homesick and at home all at once. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you guess at what they all thought back in 2010 and 2013, about the bumping shoulders and the shameless looks. At first, it's not at all shy, and then as the footage gets cleaner the space between them grows. There's the first apartment together, one they call "ours" without a second thought for regular boundaries. There are the dropout videos, which feel intimate in how fragile their sarcasm is, and you have the funny urge to call him, however many years in the past, to make sure he's okay.

They look so, so young at first, but get more familiar as time goes on. They announce their radio show, and their move to London, and steadily they sit closer together again. Some videos you can hardly watch once. Others, you have to stop yourself from replaying for the seventh or thirteenth time. The vlogs are your favorites. They're easier to recognize when they're just going about their day, when they're filming each other, when they're huddled into the sofa watching a baking show or an anime. You laugh aloud into your empty room when the cereal thing comes up, a knot in your stomach tightening at how much you miss that.

Of course, those are also the ones that make you look away from the sidebar. You can watch Dan and Phil, but clicking on anything with "phan" in the title definitely crosses a line.

Somewhere around 2015, the resemblance to their future selves makes a massive jump ahead. It throws you at first, takes a long time to settle in, and it's not until they're holding a book up to the camera that you realize why they're easier to recognize: they can't stop smiling.

And that's a bit of a punch to the gut. You go to bed earlier than usual that night, sense of loss more painful than ever. It makes you wish you were going home to your family tomorrow, not next month. 

Somehow, you start riding on their obvious happiness. Big, important things just won't stop happening for the barely-adult Dan and Phil. You put gaming videos on in the background while you work, argue on the phone, vacuum. You would never admit to tearing up at their USA tour video. You wonder if it's weird that this is your security blanket.

As the videos get newer, you remember a couple of them clearly. It's a big part of your life, has been forever, so of course some of these ring in your recent memory. You remember most of the  _AmazingPhil_ apartment tour, watched it sometime last year. This time around, though, you choke on a mouthful of Ribena when he says "the bedroom" and sort of skims past the next door in the hallway.  _So much irrelevant storage_ , says an annotation at the bottom of the screen.

You keep an eye out for the little hints, and there are plenty. Your memories of the London flat are hazy at best, but in living color it's easy to see the bits that look less like a bachelor pad and more like a love nest. Incriminating bookshelf photos in the background of skits. New bedclothes and extra pillows. A Kiss the Cook apron, which gets played off as a joke in a way that's just short of convincing. It's the second Japan vlog that reaches peak ridiculousness-- never quite seeming to get the second bed in the hotel room in shot, a shirt collar angling  _just_ far enough to show a glimpse of the purple bruise under it, a jump-cut at the top of Mount Fuji that ends in disheveled hair. You're sure you hear a familiar voice shouting _hey, love!_ in the background as 2018 Dan narrates a shot of the imperial palace.

It's almost impossible to resist picking up your phone then, sending "were u *serious*", but then you'd have to explain why you're years and years back in what's essentially the epic love story of Dan and Phil. And that's still uncomfortably personal.

You're so frustrated with it that you stop watching for the night. Work is piling up, this time of year, and you really shouldn't be binge-watching years' worth of ancient YouTube. A few days go by in a whirl of typing and coffee and late nights, but seeing what the next video is makes you want to punch yourself for putting it off.

This is one people still talk about. You didn't expect it to pop up so soon. Probably, you should have seen this a few more times, but every time you've thought about it you've just _known_  it's bound to make you teary. Especially now. You're in too deep at this point, though.

It's called  _2022_. You click around a bit to make sure this is really the next video, chronologically, but it is.

"Hi, internet," they say in sync. They're beaming, and so are you, and they make eye contact before bursting into giggles. Already, the video feels more relaxed than usual, personas put away for the time being. They edited this loosely, if at all, and the laughter continues for a couple of seconds where in other videos they would have cut.

"We've got something very exciting to share with you," Dan says when he catches his breath.

"So exciting!" Phil interjects. Their shoulders are touching as they perch on the game-room futon, but both of them are fidgeting too excitedly to maintain the contact.

They look at each other briefly, Dan opening his mouth and then closing it, Phil shrugging hopelessly at him. "I, um, I don't quite know how to introduce this," Dan says, finally, throwing his hands into the air. "It's less of a professional achievement than, ah-- oh, fuck, I dunno."

He looks at Phil instead of the camera, then, as Phil picks up the thread. "It's not a new project or anything, it's just a personal update we wanted to share with you all."

"We talked about this a lot," Dan jumps in. "We weren't sure at first how we felt about making it public, but we trust you guys. And we're really,  _really_ happy about it, so-- fuck, Phil, I'm just gonna give it away right out the gate."

They haven't really stopped laughing since the video started, so Phil's still smiling hugely as he says, "Oh, just roll the footage."

The video cuts to a shot of blossoming cherry trees, imperfectly framed and a little shaky, but quite beautiful anyway. There's a scrap of a river, a jolting pan over branches, and then the shot settles on two figures a short distance away. They're tall and unmistakable, huddled closely together against pink-green-white. It's almost painfully picturesque. "Mimei, shh," a voice behind the camera says very softly.

The audio picks up a startled "Y'okay? Phil?" Dan's taken a half-step back.

Phil is visibly nervous, practically falls over as he tries to adjust his glasses on his way to kneeling. You can just barely hear him start "Dan, er, you know that-" before he clears his throat and continues a bit more quietly. You can't hear much but wind and the shifting bodies of the camerapeople, but he talks for a bit, eyes steady and serious, picking up momentum as he goes. Dan is perfectly still except for the hand that flies up to cover his mouth. He's still even after Phil's done talking, just for a few seconds.

"Dan?" you think Phil asks, before Dan's hand falls to reveal a blinding smile.

"Are you serious?" Dan asks, and it's when you can hear that he's a little choked up that you start to cry in earnest.

"I mean, yeah-" Phil starts, cautiously starting to smile himself.

Dan cuts him off. "Of course, yes, Christ, you cheesy idiot-" and he's grabbing Phil's hands, ring box still in them, pulling him up. He starts kissing Phil before he's even upright.

Their arms loop around each other easily-- Phil's tight around Dan's waist, Dan's resting on Phil's shoulders. They're both smiling into it within a second, resting their foreheads together in a way that makes your heart pull painfully before Dan says something that looks like  _of course_ and leans in again. The kiss says  _of course,_ too.

When they break for air, Dan's wiping at his eyes and Phil's blinking furiously and he fumbles as he fits the ring onto Dan's finger. They acknowledge the camera, finally, probably because there are four loons cheering behind it.

"I hate you all," Dan says, eyes red, fighting down a smile.

"Thank you guys," Phil says.

Dan rolls his eyes and kisses him again.

There's footage after that, a back room in a restaurant full of familiar faces, shaky candid clips of Dan and Phil hugging everybody and smiling broadly and holding hands between their chairs. Louise cries. Duncan cries harder. It's chaotically happy and you really don't want to pause it to blow your nose, but you do.

When it cuts back to Dan and Phil in their apartment, they still look abominably pleased with themselves. "So, that's the announcement," Phil says.

"Nobody had to wait 'till 2022 after all," Dan adds, wiggling his left hand at the camera.

"Thank you to PJ and Louise and Duncan and Mimei for helping me out!" Phil grabs Dan's hand out of the air. "That went _so_ well."

"And thank you to our families for  _secretly flying to Japan,"_ Dan laughs, then looks at Phil. "You were pretty confident about that, weren't you?"

"They were the ones who offered to!" Phil protests. "But yeah, I had a good feeling."

The video ends with that, no endscreen, just them looking at each other giddily. You get up to throw away five or six tissues, because apparently nothing changes.

Finally, _finally_ , there's only a week left till you can go home. You have all kinds of studying to do, but the holidays are so close you can taste them. Theoretically, this means you should stop watching the videos.

It's so hard to, though. You feel like you've just gotten to the good part, and you haven't been a bad student, so you have a little extra time. They're the same as they were before, if a little touchier. They fly through the months of their engagement, flip through wedding pictures you've seen before, show off Dan's second book and announce Phil's first short film. There are still a lot of video games. You stress-eat your weight in chips and watch the next three years' worth of videos, hiding from your responsibilities for hours on end, until it's the day before your train home and you find the next one. The one you think you've probably been waiting to come across.

"We're sitting somewhere you may or may not recognize," Phil says.

You recognize it.

"It's not as bleak as it used to be," Dan adds, halfway onto Phil's lap. Two grown men, both topping six foot, do not necessarily fit well into a love seat, but they can try.

"We've tried to film this about forty times." Phil glances reproachfully at Dan. "But Dan's had a bit of trouble keeping it together."

"I have not," says Dan, whose eyes are already shining.

"So this is gonna be short and sweet." Phil plows on as Dan drops his face into his hands. "This place looks quite a bit different because Dan's old room is going to be our baby's room!"

"Yay!" Dan says with a sniffle, doing jazz hands.

"It looks like we'll have her with us in the next few days, and we've never been more excited for anything."

Phil's hand has disappeared somewhere behind Dan's back, and you know from experience he's rubbing gentle circles between his shoulder blades. "She's going to be the best baby ever," Dan says unsteadily. "Like, you know I love you guys, and these have been the best years of my life, but this is the new best and most exciting thing that's ever happened to me or us. I mean clearly, I can't keep the waterworks down about it."

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree-- this video, too, has you openly sobbing. Harder than the last one, and louder.

"We're going to love her more than any baby has  _ever been loved_ ," Phil says as Dan stands to get a tissue. "No matter what, no matter who she is or what she's like or if she's a he or a they or if she hates us with a fiery passion-" a ringtone begins to sound off camera- "I will personally fight each and every one of you for our kid. I'll fight six tigers. I'll fight the entire world--"

"Phil," Dan says urgently, standing at Phil's arm with his head out of shot. "Phil, we gotta go."

He looks up, laughs disbelivingly. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, let's go, c'mon," and then Dan's out-of-focus face is too close to the camera, phone pressed to his ear and eyes crinkled and overflowing. "Bye, you guys. See you on the other side."

You wipe your face with your sweatshirt sleeves, pause the video. You'll see him tomorrow, but you dial your dad's number anyway, and he picks up on the second ring.

"Hey," you say, voice a little strained.

"Are you all right?" your dad asks, too good at reading you as always. If he were here, he'd be rubbing circles between your shoulder blades.

"I'm good, they're happy tears." He's already getting your papa. You can hear them settling down somewhere together.

"Hi, love," your papa says. They've leaned the phone up somewhere to FaceTime, and you try to look less like you've been sobbing about them. This visual is odd-- your papa wavy-haired on the phone, your dad a little silver, as their thirty-year-old selves look out at you from the computer.

"I've been watching your old videos and I missed you a lot," you say. "Just wanted to say I love you and I can't wait to see you tomorrow."

"We love you too," your dad says. "How are exams?"

You laugh, still a little watery. "They're alright. Would you-- would you still love me if I wanted to study law?"

Your papa smiles brightly, laughter lines deepening, and leans into your dad. You kind of wonder how it took them so long to get there.

"Oh, Christ," he says. "Of course."


End file.
